From the Ground Up
by Kenna Cat
Summary: In which the author (mostly) forgoes editing and grammar for updates and ideas. Pairings vary and alternate universes lay ahead. A collection of original ideas and/or distinct takes of existing stories and history. Credit for ideas will be given where due. Because every author starts from the ground up. This is mine.


**From the Ground Up [Hetalia Drabbles]**

**Author: Kenna Cat**

**Summary: ****_In which the author forgoes editing and grammar for updates and ideas. Pairings vary and alternate universes lay ahead. A collection of original ideas and/or distinct takes of existing stories and history. Credit for ideas will be given where due. Because every author starts from the ground up. This is mine. _**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia - Axis Powers. All comics belong to Himaruya Hidekaz.**

* * *

**Warning: Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy, Gore, Death, Language**

**Inspiration: Bocchiman by Sakakibara Sousou**

_**What's a hero to do when there is nothing left for him to protect? With mankind gone and only his brother by his side, what could he possibly do that his brother hasn't already done? Human AU.**_

* * *

"Speech" - Double Quotes

_'Thoughts' - Italics and Single Quotes_

Narration - Nothing

* * *

They say it happened in an instant.

At least that's what my _heroic_ little brother told me.

I was cooped up in my apartment, reading books and magazines and doing whatever I do when I get bored. In the silence of it all, I ignored the outside world and lived my life for what it was worth. Not that it was worth much anyway. Heck, I can't even remember the name of my stuffed bear.

He can't remember my name either… a small comfort.

Why did brother have to send me that text?

He was always in the spotlight, always the one to keep the center of attention. _For my protection_, he kept telling me. _To always keep you safe_, he would whisper between us when no one bothered to listen. _To help me live_, he would boldly say to me in front of others.

I would always think:

_'Bullshit. You're just mocking me. You're just like everyone else, only you just make everything a million times worse.' _

In the end, he was right.

I wish he wasn't…

Because now I'm thrust into the spotlight. But what good would that be when there's nothing left for me to show? I wasn't all that great, mind you. How does he expect me to keep living like this? Well, at least my little brother is still with me.

That didn't make me feel any better.

* * *

When I first got outside, shocked would definitely be an understatement.

Devastated?

Stunned?

Surprised? Astonished? Dazed? Traumatized? Shaken?

Those words didn't even _begin_ to cover what I felt.

Everywhere I turned, destruction lay settled deep into the once beautiful city. Telephone poles and street lamps crumbled on each other like a game of sticks. The occasional vicious spark of electricity was the only warning to keep your distance. Houses were no longer standing tall in straight lines, now jutting out at odd angles, cracks and dents evident. The windows became gateways to a black oblivion, with an occasional red splatter made me look away. I didn't want to think of the implications of what those scarlet patterns meant. Boulders and broken pieces of wood littered the world as far as I could see, barring the areas where a building blocked my view. Steel jutted out from the Earth in the distance, titans of metal and sharp claws. I couldn't even see the road most of the time; either that, or it was warped to resemble a serpent or folded to look like rejected toy blocks.

I tried to avoid looking at the large amounts of blood everywhere.

Not like I really could.

How did my apartment stay in relatively great condition? But I didn't have time to ponder it as my concern grew a million times worse: my brother texted me! He was still out there, somewhere, in this horrible mess! This wasn't time to admire the scenery!

And for every place I looked, gruesome people stood. Slumping or slouching, dragging their feet, standing at odd angles, moaning and groaning with tattered clothes hanging off their rotting bodies. Their eyes, hollowed out, became deep, dark abysses. Some were staring at the sky, their necks tilting upward at an impossible angle. Some were looking at the ground, their necks barely connecting their heads to their bodies; I could _see_ the skin stretching and tearing. And then some were looking at me, asking for salvation, desperation, possibly acceptance. I was afraid that if I looked into those eyes long enough, my existence would fade just like their life. And they were crying, tears mixed with blood and leftover scrap of once functioning organs.

It was like I jumped into an episode of _The Walking Dead_. I've seen this over and over. I always wished I didn't.

Then there was the fog. The ominous and bright fog was there, always so bright that it made everything else pitch black. Never once had this mist failed to appear.

And whenever it showed itself, death was so very close by.

Sometimes, I can't tell what came first: the mist or the corpses that would look at me with hunger.

These were dead people.

I ran past them, knowing what I would see, knowing what would happen if I stopped running for just a second. I needed to get away from them. They weren't people who I could help. They weren't people who I could save. They were _dangerous_.

They were so gruesome even their shadows had abandoned them.

That's what I always told myself since I was young.

I never noticed the moon seemed to loom eerily over the Earth.

* * *

"Mattie, pay attention to me," my brother whined.

He stood over me, but the area around me grew no darker.

I ignored him, still crouched on the ground, holding my knees, and burying my head in them to forget reality. Though my brother wasn't making it easy for me to ignore him; he was pounding on my head, after all. To be honest, I couldn't really even feel it all that much. However, the accompanying headache wasn't too enjoyable.

"Come on, Mattie! You can't just keep sulking there! You need to be a HERO!" he declared childishly.

I had listened to him rant for the past four hours. I was getting tiresome. Annoying, irritating, frustrating, grating. I could think of dozens of synonyms to describe how much I wanted him to shut up.

When was he ever _not_ a child?

"Look Mattie! There's ice cream over there!"

Why was he acting like none of this happened?

"There's even your favorite, Maple Syrup flavor!"

Can't he just _shut up_?!

"Mattie, help me over here! We'll get ice cream and share it together! How does that sound?"

"WHY ARE YOU SO CALM?!" I yelled at him, standing up suddenly in my anger. I watched with slight satisfaction as he flinched. The rest of me immediately felt regretful. The mist continued to swirl around us, though I tried my best to ignore it.

It **_always _**circled back to Alfred.

"Well, you can't just keep sulking there, Mattie," he pouted. How a pout fit so well on a thirteen-year-old, I'll never understand. We were the same age, yet we were so different. Almost twins, yet polar opposites of each other.

I slumped back down to the ground, avoiding looking at anything except my legs. How different they looked compared to the ones laying three feet from me. How different they looked from the ones on Alfred who had trails of mist flowing from his.

"Why'd you make me come here, Al? Why am I still here? I'm pretty sure I don't deserve it," I mumbled quietly, hoping he wouldn't hear.

No such luck.

"Yes, you do, Mattie! Who told you that you didn't deserve it?! I'll knock some sense into them! I swear if it's that commie bastard who told you that, I'm gonna give him a good one!" Alfred mockingly threatened.

I zoned him out as he ranted on what he was going to do. Staying silent, I slowly looked up to my brother. He had no shadow beneath him, and occasionally his outline blurred and trailed off into mist. I turned my head to look at the mangled corpse on the ground, and then back to my brother who was balancing perfectly on a nearby boulder. He was shouting to the world how he was going to find the person who lowered my self-esteem and give them a good talking to. I mentally scoffed at that; _everyone_ lowered my self-esteem, including myself.

My eyes were drawn back to the gory figure again. Normally, I would probably get frightened, freeze in shock, or run away in no particular order. Or maybe I might do all three at the same time. However this wasn't normal, because the corpse held familiar but dulled sky blue eyes and dirty golden hair, the cowlick now limp yet still prominent. The corpse was even wearing the same clothes as my brother who was standing perfectly nearby. In fact, I would have called the corpse a clone if it weren't for the fact that the entire chest area had been shredded to pieces, the organs strewn across the ground, and his head still lowly bleeding out.

If I hadn't seen my brother, who was still struggling and breathing, get split in half by some, weird — I don't know what! — _thing_, I probably wouldn't be sitting here. I would be trying to find a doctor for my brother instead. And my brother, my semi-_transparent _brother, is just standing there ranting about how he was going to beat someone up.

How is he supposed to do that when he's _dead_?!

Oh, did I ever _mention_ I could see **_ghosts_**?

Usually they just look like zombies, but of course Alfred would find a way to escape that. Alfred _always_ found a way, while I got left with the scraps. Not that I minded. I could get by; live a normal, secluded lifestyle. No one would bother me, and I wouldn't bother them. That's how it was _supposed to be_.

"Hey Mattie! Are you even paying attention?" Alfred's voice pierces my thoughts, "'Cause we still got to get out of here."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Why?"

"Why what?" he questioned, clearly confused. I scoffed.

_Of course_ he wouldn't understand my feelings. He never did.

"Why should I even move? Why should I even care?" I asked, my anger slightly slipping through.

"What do you mean care?! You have to! We need to go beat up the bad guys!"

If I wasn't so angry, I probably would have noticed the seriousness in his voice. I wished I had noticed earlier.

"GOD FUCKING DAMN IT AL! YOU'RE DEAD! WHAT THE FUCK CAN YOU DO AS A GHOST?! HOW THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO _'BEAT UP THE BAD GUYS' _WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN LIFT ANYTHING?! WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE, AL! WHY CAN'T YOU BE SERIOUS FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE?! THIS ISN'T SOME GAME! THERE AREN'T BAD GUYS TO BEAT! THERE AREN'T EVEN ANY PEOPLE LEFT!"

"Matt-"

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LET ME DIE IN PEACE!"

Alfred didn't reply. I regretted shouting at Alfred, but I meant every word I said. A long silence passed, so long that I thought Alfred disappeared, leaving me alone again. I didn't want to be alone. In panic, I looked up only to be surprised to see Alfred still there, looking toward the sky with narrowed eyes.

"Al, I'm sorr-"

I got cut off when he leveled a serious look at me. I stumbled back in shock, rarely seeing such a look pass Alfred's face. All the guilt from before came crashing back. I couldn't take it, and looked away from Alfred only to stare at his corpse.

His voice was so quiet, but it rang loud in my ears.

"I've always been serious Matthew. I had to be when mother ran away and father married Papa. I thought you would be another person who would sneer at me, who would mock and ridicule me. But you weren't. You were kind, you were caring, you were bright and I was so, so _wrong_, and then I just accepted you into my life. And I just had to… I just wanted to protect you. _Needed_ to protect you. Dying was just a small price to pay."

His voice started breaking at the end.

I slowly looked up in surprise. This time it was his turn to look away. He cleared his throat, still shaky from his admission. I didn't really pay any mind, still too dazed to even register the action.

"And my friend and I found out s-something horrible. A-And he just _had_ to go d-die trying to give me the last vital piece of information. I-I… I cried for _days_, and y-you know who was there every day? W-Without fail? No matter how I yelled at to get away f-from me and to leave me alone? You. _You_, Matthew. A-And there were these _monsters_ that were going to kill... Kill! They were going to _kill_ everyone! And… a-and… I couldn't just let you _die_, you know?"

He smiled sadly, looking back at me.

"And come on. Did you really think you were the last one alive, Matthew?"

My eyes widened.

"W-what?" I managed to squeak out.

"Did you really think you were the last person left of this horrible world?" he asked, sweeping an arm to gesture to all the destruction.

I could only stare at him, stunned.

"Father's still alive, you know. So is Papa. And a bunch of your friends too. You didn't think I would leave you alone, did you?"

I did. I really thought he did. I'm so ashamed that I did. He may not have intentionally placed the double meaning of that simple sentence, but I caught it easily. I thought he only saved me, alone in this world without friends, without family. Then Al would leave me too. In a way, he did. But the words wouldn't come out of my mouth.

He smiles sadly as if he read my thoughts.

I so desperately wanted to tear off that broken look off his face. Because that wasn't a look Alfred should have. That wasn't Alfred, the one who always smiled liked the sun. That wasn't Alfred. That wasn't _Alfred_. That wasn't **_my brother_**.

And I was the one who caused it.

I couldn't decide which realization was worse.

I could only ask why.

"Why?" I whispered, my voice suddenly hoarse.

"Why? Do you even have to ask that? Because you're my big brother."

And he smiled so brightly and warmly at me. My heart kept shattering into pieces I couldn't put back together.

"You're my hero, Mattie."

And for the first time since everything started, I cried. I cried for the world and its tragic end. I cried out my grief for my brother. I cried for not understanding. I cried at how I wasn't fast enough, how I couldn't save him.

I cried at the irony of it all.

Alfred was supposed to be _my_ hero.

And he sadly crouched down and hugged me gently. I cried harder because I couldn't even feel his warmth anymore.

He was a ghost.

My own brother's shadow found Alfred disgusting… while my own still stayed with my hideous self.

* * *

_'Where are they?!'_

"Papa! Father! Gilbert! Ivan?! ANYONE?!"

"… I'm sure we'll find them."

"Yeah…"

* * *

"Al! A little help here!"

"You got it, Mattie!"

A group of seven stood before us, all wearing capes and gas masks of some sort. All of them pulled out swords of some sort. Some even had objects that looked like Tasers, except much longer and way deadlier. It hurt enough the first time we got hit with one of those. Behind the masks, creatures that looked like enlarged fungi with multiple eyes collected unknown data of some sort while we fought.

They had come from the moon.

How cliché was that?

I grabbed my brother's hand as he phased into me. I felt my control of my body slip, and I easily let go of it. Alfred was always the better fighter between the two of us.

But I was the better runner, the better hider.

They chased us for hours, Alfred slowly picking them off one by one while I dodged and fled so we could recuperate. And all the while, I've felt myself get stabbed, punched, and grabbed. I could have sworn Alfred broke a few bones too. Though I could have confused those feelings with Alfred's memories since I _can_ actually see his memories.

I was surprised that back-up hadn't been called yet. Though the sheer increase in number of these freaks in this area had certainly been prominent, I couldn't deny that.

We had already encountered these bastards quite a number of times.

Not like I was counting. I just needed to keep living.

For myself.

For our family and friends.

For Alfred.

Then it was over, the corpses lying next to us and blood splatted all across my clothes. Hours had passed, but to me, it felt like a moment. Maybe it was a subconscious thing with the mind? I still had to help fight, switching with Alfred when he needs a break. That doesn't happen often. More like never. Bu-but I would help observe and give warnings, run and recover, communicating what I had seen in our mind.

Wait, _what_?

Since when did I start referring _my_ head as _our_ mind?

That sounded so stupid. This spirit possession stuff must be messing with my head.

Alfred _so_ didn't help with that sparkling grin and obnoxious laugh when he phased out of me.

I whacked him.

He laughed some more.

Miraculously, my grievous injuries healed. Every single time…

And I laughed with Alfred, but my reasons for so were much darker than his.

* * *

I was pretty sure we weren't living anymore.

No. We weren't living.

We were surviving. Survival fit our way of existing far more than living. Because living implied luxury. And we certainly didn't have _that_.

I wasn't even sure our family was alive anymore.

He kept insisting though.

How was he so sure?

But it didn't matter. I don't care how he knows. So long as Alfred is next to me, I will keep surviving. Because he's always there for me even though I wasn't, no matter how he tries to deny that.

Screw the world. I can even become a murderer, emotionless and uncaring. If it's to protect that bright, bright smile, I will tackle everything.

So…

So let me stay with this smile until the end of time, at the very least.

* * *

"Hey Al?"

My voice sounded so dull now, but I didn't care. Alfred was smiling. He was smiling a happy smile.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Why are you so excited?"

He just grinned wider. Even after all this time, I still couldn't understand his thoughts like he could me. I just stared at him confused, by mind dull from all the destruction I've seen. All the fighting I've done.

All the blood I've seen.

All the monsters I killed.

And everything broke all over again when he said my name.

"Mathieu?"

"Matthew, lad, is that you?"

_Papa. Father._

I froze. I was still soaked in sanguine liquid, the scarlet black fluid dripping from my hair, and staining my clothes. I slowly turned to look up at Papa, and it was like looking into a mirror.

I wanted to scream.

To shout.

To run away.

Because realization dawned on me.

But I couldn't because I simply didn't care anymore. My face, my thoughts, my body. They had all become emotionless.

We had become monsters.

* * *

**Word Count: [3,125]**

**Read and Review. Criticisms are welcome. I hope you enjoyed the concept. **

**- Kenna Cat**


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